Poetry slam brings back my prolific nature

Last night a watched part of a poetry slam on HBO.  What I heard from those young poets carried alot of anger from cities across the country. Their voices dueled each other and fueled each other deeper and louder into their emotions. I envy their passion but wish just once I could have heard something that had a lilt of happiness.  But then I remembered my own young writer's mind:  
Watching them open up to the world through their words reminded me of a moment in college when a professor called me "prolific" and said that he felt that I wrote, not because I wanted to write, but because I had to; it was in my DNA.  That was the response he gave me when I asked if he thought I showed promise or the ability to "make it, so to speak, in the real world.   I was hoping for words of encouragement or constructive criticism that would help me improve and when I pushed him towards this end, and he told me that it was too subjective of a question and he couldn't answer.  His response left me feeling a bit hollow as if it just didn't matter.  That moment reinforced my aversion to rejection which eventually drove me to largely give up my dreams of writing professionally. That was about 12 years ago.

In my rush down memory lane last night I was inspired to find two pieces from my archives that I wrote when I was in high school and were expected to model the masters.  I chose to model Ralph Waldo Emerson with both of the poems I'm posting here.  I submitted the following poem to the Peoria District IATE Creative Writing Workshop in 1993. 

Within

Many times I ask myself,

"Will it happen?", "Is it true?"

But never, not once do I find an answer.

I dream, I wish, I hope;

but never, not once does it happen.

I pray, I listen, I whisper;

but no, not once do I hear.

I look, I watch, I wait;

but no, not once do I see.

Sometimes I believe there are no answers,

and nothing to happen, hear, or see.

But somewhere deep inside,

I know the only answers come from within;

the only things to happen

are my own doings;

the only things to hear,

I, myself, say;

and the only things to see

are those which I put inside my vision.

So, I say to myself,

"I will make it happen;

I will find the answers;

I will make myself see;

I will make myself hear."

(I didn't come close to winning for this poem, but I did get 2nd place for a horror story called "World of Defeat.")

The second poem I remembered last night was accepted into one of those Poetry Anthology books they try to sell you leather bound versions of for your family members during the holidays.  My brother indicated it was a scam and was definitely NOT an achievement that I should participate in, so I never filled out the final editing slip that would have led to my first published poem.

I am ME

People think me insane,

but I know I'm not.

The real me is hidden in the shadows

until I feel the time to bare my soul is near.

Sometimes I regret, but usually not;

nothing hurts unless you let it.

Sorrow comes often...

but only

because I realize I'm different,

and never will be

    what THEY want.

I am me and they are not;

what reason do they have to

   mold the perfect ME?

Let them mold themselves into

   the perfect THEM.

I am ME reminded me of the conviction I had at the time that I was different. I was unique. I was not going to live the "normal" life. I was somehow above all advice, direction and authority.  Now, 16 or more years later, I wish I had been listening to this kid encourage me all along.  I am my destiny.  If I want something I have to get over my aversion to rejection, I have to move away from letting others decide what job I should have, what my progress looks like, what my actions should be. I have to start listening to myself and start doing something that is going to get me closer to my goal.
 
And I think that's one root of my problem.  I didn't listen or take the advice given to me.  My parents tried to teach me things that I wasn't ready to learn. I wanted to learn everything for myself, not through someone telling me what I should learn.  So I shrugged off the idea of needing to have goals. I realize now that part of that shrugging off is what has debilitated my progress towards what I truly want.  I was afraid to fail so I never set a goal.  If you don't have a goal, you can't fail.  And I felt that if I failed I wasn't worth anything. 
 
But now I know that if I don't fail, I also don't succeed - and I don't even get closer to succeeding.  I don't need to have anyone else's goals.  I need to have my own.  And I need to start doing something to try to achieve them.